I've heard it said that the road to stardom is littered with broken dreams (and equally offensive debris.) So what about the road to publication? Ask anyone who has traveled it. It's a veritable minefield. You have your potholes, your detours, the four revision pile-up, overturned queries and major agent jams. Red lights? You can't even imagine. Stop signs? You'll be yielding more than you care to. I'll screech to a halt here. You get the point. There's surely no need to beat an analogy to a bloody (annoying) pulp.
Simply stated - it ain't easy.
What's a girl with writing in her veins to do?
I've trunked the idea more than once. Can't happen. Won't happen. The odds are stacked against me. Why bother?
The bigger question is, why not?
After all, what's life without a little frustration, heartache, yearning, begging, pleading, pacing and hysteria?
Regardless of all the above, people write because they have to. It goes, eat, drink, sleep, breathe, write. It isn't optional. It what we do in spite of our better judgement, in spite of the littered road and in spite of it all.